It's been nearly 6 years since Doug and I tied the knot on the little island of Kauai and I can still smell the plumeria. I can close my eyes and go directly to a little grass hut. In that hut, there's a girl wearing long skirts and a bandana. She's holding a ukulele, but she isn't playing it. Her eyes are closed and she's singing the most beautiful rendition of Ave Maria I've ever heard. Doug and I are sitting at a tiny table for two. We're under the stars and have been married for approximately 12 hours. I'm eating a fish sandwich and enjoying a beer. We'll soon head for our condo and fall asleep watching Braveheart.
I'm sure that most people have the unique experience of having their wedding day "burned" into their brains. Me? I have the unique experience of having an entire 10 days of my destination wedding latched onto my soul. I long to go back. I long to walk on the beach where Doug and I said, "I do." I yearn for that tiny slice of perfection, even if most of the perfection has been washed into the sea by the Pacific waves and remains mostly in my head. I have dreams about macadamia nut pancakes and pineapple syrup. I have to wonder if Mai Tais taste better in Hawaii than they do in Texas.
Something about Hawaii calls to me (and to everyone else I know who has been there). There's something majestic about it. Something ancient and pure and. . . perfect. Something other than the eight-hour flight asks to be a part of my life again and I listen. Some day, we'll go back. But until then, we are so very blessed to have such vivid memories of a beautiful, wondrous, sacred place. Until we manage to make it back, I'll just surround myself with plumeria-scented candles, photos of Birds of Paradise, and sarongs and wait patiently. Aloha and mahola, Hawaii. It was nice to meet you.
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